


her sky

by Meepy



Category: Elsword (Video Game)
Genre: Drabble Collection, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2018-08-12 07:00:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7925053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meepy/pseuds/Meepy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>7. He follows her into the depths of darkness. — Diabla (Altar of Evil), Royal Guard</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. her knight — Noblesse, Demonio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hello, this is a drabble collection centred around Lu&Ciel because I love them. the plan is to write tons of combinations of the different classes. if a class is unspecified, assume it is base.  
> primary focus is to mix up the classes of Lu&Ciel to explore their relationship with one another so I likely won't write much of Lu+Lu or Ciel+Ciel, if at all.
> 
> 1\. He sees her, in a dress so fine and white and foreign; it is innocence, and he is not. — Noblesse, Demonio

In the shadows of the night, he thrives.

In the light of the day, there’s an inexplicable emptiness in his chest; a void once held by something now lost. A distant memory.

In the shadows of the night, he can forget; he can bury the silent nothingness beneath pools of thoughtless blood.

He _is_ the night: quiet, cloaked in darkness, a soundless lethality (madness) curtained by pitch black.

Yet he will still fade when morning comes, his presence dispersed by those shining too brightly like the day.

The moon still high in the sky, he stands guard, rifle in hand. His eyes are trained to spot the slightest movements, and he sees—

He sees her.

His shoulders relax and he lowers his weapon.

It’s Lu.

Lu, in a dress so fine and white and _foreign_ —it is innocence, and he is not.

She is purity and sanity.

( _Salvation._ )

“Ciel?” she questions, her lips pressed into a thin line. She walks towards his rigid figure and he subconsciously moves a foot back. She stands before him then, one simple touch away. Her voice is quiet as she says, “Down. I want to see your face.”

She’s not the Lu he recognizes but she is still _Lu_ , so he falls to one knee like a knight, allowing her to look down at him rather than up. Because he is her servant and she is his master, and how can _he_ be the one looking down at _her?_

He keeps his head lowered, waiting for her next order.

“Eyes up,” she commands. “I said I wanted to see your face.”

Slowly, he lifts his chin and he tries not to look surprised when she takes another step towards him. He tries not to look surprised when she brushes the hair away from his face, with a tenderness so thoughtful it’s almost _painful_. He tries not to look surprised at the way her gaze hardens when she catches sight of his one darkened eye (madness). He tries not to look surprised when she asks him in an unrecognizable, soft tone, “Do you still remember me, Ciel?”

He remembers the frail, small girl; lost and confused in the world of humans.

He remembers the petite demon with the unwavering goal of reclaiming her past life.

He remembers the Lu engulfed by her own demonic power, darkness seeping from her very aura.

He remembers his master, demanding with a touch of elegant madness ( _their_ madness).

But he doesn’t remember _her_ : delicate, poised and strong. Purity and salvation. Standing in front of him now, with a royal confidence.

“I’m sorry, Ciel.” Her eyes soften at his lack of response. “How could this—I let this happen to you?”

“Lu,” he voices, muffled beneath his mask. “I remember you. I won’t ever forget you.”

She lets out a sigh. “Of course you won’t; I’d never let you.

“But I never wanted you to do this, either. I know I’ve been asking a lot of you, Ciel, but I never asked you for this,” she tells him. “You … didn’t have to.”

And he wonders if he even wanted to, if he even had a _choice_.

But from the very start, his choice was her.

And everything was for her.

Yet the frown that’s etched on her face makes him want to take it all back; makes him feel like he’s committed a grave mistake.

He mutters uselessly, “It was for you.”

She smiles then, a humourless thing. “I know, Ciel. Thank you.”

But it’s not the right kind of smile, he thinks.

“Can you stand?” she asks, her hand motioning upwards. “I want you to stand.”

He blinks once before rising to his feet.

“Good,” she hums in approval. “I don’t really like having to look down at you like that, you know?”

He nods slowly.

“I suppose I was careless, and that may be my mistake. I didn’t mean for this to happen; I want you to understand that at the very least. But there is one thing I need to ask of you, Ciel.” She takes a breath and her gaze locks with his, resolute. “From now on, will you continue to be my royal strength?”

Behind her, he sees the rise of the sun. The night fades away, specks of orange dusting the sky, bringing in the break of dawn.

She’s not the Lu he remembers, but she is—

“My strength will always be yours,” he answers simply.

She smiles in response, and it feels right.

“Come, Ciel.” She glances upwards, her eyes meeting his as she offers out her small hand. “It’s time for breakfast, yes?”

“Yes,” he affirms, indulging himself in the gentle touch of his master.

And he silently vows to be her knight, to the luminosity that is her day.

(Because she is _salvation_.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and this is my fav combination tbh. I really think she could be so good to him haha ... /wipes sweat.


	2. her birthday — Noblesse, Royal Guard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2\. Lu doesn’t remember her birthday, but it doesn’t mean she can’t have one. — Noblesse, Royal Guard

 “Lu,” he speaks as he tips the teapot in his hand, allowing the steeped liquid to pour into her dainty cup, “when is your birthday?”

She lifts the rim of the china to her lips, inhaling the bittersweet scent for a moment before taking a quick sip. It’s hot, but it doesn’t burn her tongue. She sets the cup back down onto the table as she replies, “‘Birth-day’? How do you mean?”

“The day of your birth,” he elaborates, placing a plate of macarons in front of the petite demon while simultaneously moving aside the teapot.

With her thumb and index finger, she picks up a pastel pink treat. “Oh, that human tradition. Marking the day you were born and celebrating it, was it? With presents and such?”

He nods in confirmation.

“I don’t remember mine. Even if I did, I wouldn’t know where it would fall on the human calendar.” She purses her lips at the thought. With an indignant sigh, she admits, “It was actually a long time ago, Ciel!”

He stifles a chuckle. “I’m sorry, Lu.”

“To be honest, us demons—we’ve never found the need to remember something like that. Just being _born_ isn’t important; you have to make a name for yourself,” she explains, popping the strawberry macaron into her mouth. She lets out an indulgent moan of appreciation before continuing, “Though there are some days we do remember: your first dark spell, the day you earn your full demon name, and so on. Other things like that. Nothing like the day you were birthed. It’s just not seen as a significant moment to us; _anyone_ can be born.”

She pauses for a second. “Why do you ask, Ciel?”

“I—” he starts.

She gestures for him to sit at the table next to her. He bows his head once before following her order. “I was just wondering. I did not mean to be intrusive.”

“Hm. Did you want to celebrate something, Ciel?” she muses. “I’m sorry that we demons don’t do much of that.”

“It’s no matter,” he assures her.

She reaches her hand out to his face, the back of her fingers grazing against the man’s cheek. He blinks in surprise, but quickly composes himself. His eyes follow her subtle movements intently. She lets a smile form on her lips as she turns her hand, allowing her palm to cup his cheek. Her other hand mirrors this gesture.

“Do you still wish you were human?” she questions, voice low.

He closes his eyes thoughtfully.

She waits a breath; two, three, four for his answer.

“No,” he says eventually, and she searches his face for a lie.

She doesn’t find one.

“Do you not miss human traditions?” she presses. “Like your ‘birthday’?”

“No. I hardly remember celebrating my own,” he admits, his lids slowly opening. Her eyes meet his. “Is it wrong? That I have felt more human with you than I ever did while I was actually _human?_ ”

She blinks, quietly moving her hands away from the butler’s face. He doesn’t speak much about his past, but she understands enough. She can still feel the heaviness that he tries to submerge beneath the goal of reclaiming the throne that has become his, just as much as it is hers.

“When is your birthday, Ciel?”

He hesitates for a moment, then replies, “January 20th.”

She nods her head once and tries not to dwell on the fact that it had already passed not too long ago. Maybe that is what started this conversation.

“And birthdays, they mark the start of one’s life?” she affirms.

“Yes.”

She takes another drink of her tea. “Then, July 16th.”

“Pardon?”

“That is my birthday,” she tells him.

“How do you remember?” he inquires.

She shrugs her shoulders. “I don’t, really. But I believe that was the day I met you, correct? And, well, meeting you was kind of the start of this life.”

He opens his mouth to say something, then quickly closes it. His gaze shifts to the side and she sees a smile spreading on his lips, one that he cannot contain.

“So? What do you think?” she asks, watching as his hands distractedly reach for the teapot he had set aside earlier.

“If that is what you wish for, I have no objections.” He bows his head slightly.

“Yes! And now that that’s settled … I expect presents when the day comes!” she demands. “And lots of them!”

He lifts the teapot and fills her cup to the brim once more. “Of course. I would not prepare any less for you, Lu.”


	3. her dignity — Noblesse, Dreadlord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3\. He was always good at saying the wrong (right) thing. — Noblesse, Dreadlord

She stopped, arms crossed beneath her chest and a displeased frown etched on her face. He hesitated for a moment, then, “Something the matter, my little princess?”

The edge of her mouth twitched.

“Yes, Ciel.” She let out an indignant huff. “Do you not listen to yourself as you speak?”

His brow knit in confusion. “… Did I say something wrong?”

“’Little princess’?” she echoed, pursing her lips. “I’ve said this before, have I not? It’s queen. _Queen_.”

“Then, my little queen,” he amended with a slight bow of his head and an amused smirk—the _gall_ of him.

Her frown deepened. “And I’m not little.”

“You’re littler than me.” He chuckled, reaching to pat her gently on the head. She felt her cheeks warming up in response; her dignity was hurting a bit. He’d become more casual with her as of late, and she briefly wondered if something like this could be considered his “true self.” _Demons_ tended to be rather straightforward in their attitudes, backstabbing aside.

And oh, was there backstabbing.

Suddenly, she felt the air escape her lungs as she was hoisted up and into her servant’s arms. An uncharacteristic squeak left her lips at the unexpected motion. “Ciel! What are you doing?” she exclaimed. She raised her arms, balling her hands into fists as she pushed against his shoulders.

He looked pleased with himself. “I am carrying you.”

“Yes, _yes_ ; but why?” She just knew the incriminating shade of rose had coloured her features once more.

He blinked like the answer was obvious. “You’re little.”

He clearly, _clearly_ found amusement in flustering her.

“And you’re cutest when you’re embarrassed,” he added with a happy hum.

She squirmed in his arms, hitting his chest with her fists as she yelled, “ _Ciel!_ ”

He laughed for a moment, before his eyes hardened faintly. His voice steadied and lost its teasing lilt as he asked, “But you wear heels now; don’t they hurt? After walking for so long?”

“I used to wear heels _all_ of the time, Ciel,” she replied instantly. “I’m fine, I assure you. So, please don’t pick me up like this.”

“Does this mean you don’t want me to carry you around anymore?” He seemed to deflate at the thought. No, he actually _did_ deflate a bit; she could feel him lowering her ever so slightly. “You used to like it before.”

“I—well,” she stuttered, her cheeks flushing yet again as she recalled their early days together. “I don’t really mind. Sometimes. Just don’t do it without my asking, okay?”

He beamed.

“Of course. As you wish, my little queen.” With those words, he quietly brought her back down to her feet. She turned to face him, one eyebrow cocked upwards.

“‘Little’?”

He chuckled softly in response. Bowing, he then reached for her left hand. His gaze never broke from hers as he raised her knuckles to his lips. “My apologies, my queen.”

This, she would allow—her dignity be damned.


	4. his garden — Noblesse, Demonio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4\. She was a white rose in a garden of poison. — Noblesse, Demonio (Madness)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Demonio enters his _Madness_ state when using the skill Transcendence.

“You underestimate me, Karis.” Lu let a smirk form on her lips. “I’m not alone this time.”

The demon scoffed in response, “What? Your loyal dog?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Ciel. His name is Ciel.”

“And what does it matter if your filthy _dog_ has a name?” Karis lifted her scythe, charging towards the smaller demon.

Ciel watched through the scope of his sniper. His eyes followed Karis, but still lingered on Lu as he observed the two demons going back and forth.

She was pretty like a flower, illuminated by the brilliant blue of her own magic.

She was a single white rose in his garden of poison.

(a slow, agonizing madness he couldn’t stop.)

She was delicate, but strong. A rose with _thorns_ because pain was pleasure and pleasure was pain, and wasn’t that _right_?

She was a red rose bleached pure. A white rose he could stain crimson and—

His mind was hazy. This wasn’t the time. How, how was he seeing red when he still had his wits about him and his sanity, but oh there was poison and he was madness but—

He had to concentrate on the task at hand. He closed his eyes briefly, listening intently for his signal to move.

“—Because trusting others worked out so well for you last time, didn’t it?” Karis hissed, a ball of dark magic releasing from her hands. Lu turned to dodge, but the sphere exploded into hundreds of shards. She covered her body with her claws, but her legs were left exposed.

He gritted his teeth. He wanted to look away. He couldn’t look away.

There was blood.

(he wanted to look.)

“It’s different this time, because Ciel is _human_ ,” she huffed. “He would never, ever leave me behind.”

(he was already gone.)

He pulled on the trigger and a moment later, Karis bent over, clutching her left thigh in agony. She screeched, “Fucking dog!”

He descended in darkness and pulled out his blades. Shock momentarily flashed across Karis’ face as she stared at the shadow now in front of her. She quickly composed herself, but not fast enough to avoid or effectively block his slashes.

A pentagram formed in the sky and the world turned navy and violet, before fading into pitch black.

 

 

 

When he opened his eyes, a familiar pure white flooded his vision. The wall he was leaning against was cold, his body felt sore and his arm stung, but he chose to focus on the young girl standing before him instead.

“Ciel?” Her voice tinkled and echoed throughout his mind. “Have you awoken?”

He nodded his head once. His knees buckled and he reluctantly moved to sit. He absentmindedly noticed the rubble on the ground; surrounding his legs, by her feet. The wall he was leaning against was cold.

“You did well,” she said simply.

“Are you okay?” he had to ask. His lids felt heavy and he had to force his eyes open, but he could barely even _look_ at her.

(white and blue and red and it was _beautiful_.)

“Some scratches,” she answered, "but it was to be expected. I am not hurt nearly as badly as you are, though.”

He smiled a little at those words. He smiled more at the way she reached down and pushed the hair away from his face to see his eyes, to see him, to see her Ciel.

Because even if she wasn’t his, he was hers. Through and through. No matter who she was or who she became.

She startled when he leaned into her touch. Surprise flitted across her features as he grasped her small wrist, then tentatively moved to touch her face in return.

(he hovered over her neck.)

She was a white rose in a garden of poison.

There was blood.

And it was beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did you know ... I like Noblesse. I swear I'll write the other Lu's too. /wipes sweat.
> 
> anyway haha ha ha cries over Noblesse and Demonio.


	5. her strength — Diabla, Dreadlord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5\. Sadness is a useless human emotion, she thinks. — Diabla, Dreadlord

The petite girl charges forward into the mob of monsters with little regard for herself. He tries to cover for her, but Lu is especially reckless in the midst of battle. It's hard to reach out to her when she's in this state, he knows; the blood lust consumes her.

She slams her claws into the ground and her magic surges forth; demonic power consumes the monsters in front of her. Once the debris settles, he sees her lone figure standing in the rubble, panting slightly.

"You need to be more careful," he tells her as he eyes the fresh cuts on her legs. "I can't treat every single wound out there."

Her dilated pupils begin to refocus. He crouches down in front of her and examines the injuries.

"Well, they don't look too bad. I guess it's fine." He sighs and scratches the back of his head while thinking about what to do next.

She grins wide, teeth sharp. "They will never be strong enough for me!"

He smiles in response and stretches his legs, returning to his full height. "Of course not. I just don't want to see you get badly hurt or anything if something goes wrong; I'd be sad."

"Sad?" she echoes, tilting her head to the side.

"Yup," he reaffirms simply. With that, he reaches into his coat pockets for ointment. Even if her wounds aren't severe, it's better not to leave them alone.

While he rummages through his coat, the small demon in front of him becomes engulfed in a dark aura. It's nothing new, but he's not sure why she's coming forth now. Usually she reserves her presence for difficult battles or conversations of more importance.

She appears before him as an elegant, powerful beauty, all prior injuries seemingly gone. He removes his hands from his coat and acknowledges her with a simple wave.

"To what do I owe this honour?" he asks lightly.

"My dear, you do not have to fret over myself so heavily," she answers. "It is almost an insult."

"Hey—you're strong, I trust you—you know that," he protests, "but I can still worry. Like I said, I'd be sad if something did happen to you."

"How useless," she sighs. "A useless human emotion."

"I was once human, y'know." He shrugs his shoulders. "Still kind of am."

A smile plays on her lips. "My dear Ciel, you were _never_ human."

He opens his mouth to speak. She looks at him.

"It's not a bad thing," she says simply.

His lips form a thin line. He doesn't want to say that stung more than it should have. Instead, he opts with a quiet, "I suppose not."

She moves to walk in front of him, as she always does now. They no longer walk side-by-side and he no longer carries her in his arms. Instead, he walks behind her. It's better this way, he thinks, because he can watch her back. She trusts him with her back.

"Ciel, dear," she speaks up, her gaze remaining forward, "remain vigilant. I would not be pleased if you were to be injured."

He blinks once, twice.

He smiles. "Of course, Lu."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> suddenly, i got hit with inspo to write these two so i wrote this up real quick. i really don't know how to handle Diabla tbh but well, i tried. also i treat Demonio&Diabla's transformations as separate entities don't ask me how it works  
> i actually feel like i put down quite a few interesting concepts in terms of the relationship Diabla and Dreadlord would have here but i didn't really touch upon it much (you should be able to see the implications tho), maybe i'll revisit it again in the future.
> 
> ANYWAY ... 3rd jobs ... are beautiful ??? i'm crying ... maybe i'll write them eventually but i still need to go through the 2nd job match-ups and whatnot lol.


	6. her hair — Chiliarch, Royal Guard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 6\. “Hey, Ciel? Can I braid your hair too?” — Chiliarch, Royal Guard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story heavily references Ciel's little sister from the official webcomic.
> 
> Also, a note on 3rd jobs:  
> I don’t think their roles/personalities are significantly different from 2nd job so I’m not really planning on dedicating stories for mixing up 2nd/3rd job pairs together. imo for most of these stories, 2nd and 3rd job would be interchangeable, so you are free to imagine that any of the 2nd job classes in these stories are actually 3rd -- I don't think it makes much of a difference in terms of characterization.
> 
> I would say only Diangelion!Ciel has a notable change from 2nd->3rd job so I may play around with that though (I have a couple of ideas for Anular). ofc this is all subject to change and maybe I’ll write the 3rd jobs after all!

“Ciel!” Lu called out, skipping to the man in question. He turned at the sound of her voice and immediately discerned why she was seeking his attention. He let out a sigh at the unruly state of her hair, but he was not genuinely exasperated. Helping Lu with her hair was simply routine. And, he’d admit, there was something oddly pleasant about it.

It was mundane. It was peaceful. It was … nostalgic.

“How many times do I need to tell you to come to me first?” he reprimanded gently, moving to smooth out the tangles in her curls. She handed him a hairbrush she had carried with her. His brow furrowed as he took the item from her and started to brush; her handiwork was a lot messier than usual. “What were you trying to do?”

She pouted. “Braid my hair. Egh, how do you make it look so easy!?”

“It’s not that difficult.” He chuckled, his hands moving mechanically as he fixed her hair. “You just part your hair and weave.”

“Mm, I know, I tried. Really hard!”

“Well, it’s no matter. I will always be here to assist you.” Once her hair was tangle-free, he put aside the hairbrush and began braiding. It _was_ simple; after all, he helped Lu with her hair almost everyday—it was only natural for him to become adept at it.

After all, he had prior experience.

He tried not to think about it too much. Rather, he concentrated on the softness of her hair between his fingers, the happy tune she would hum, and the subdued smile on her lips.

“There, all done,” he stated once he was finished.

“Thanks, Ciel!” She beamed at him, and though she didn’t have a mirror, she seemed pleased with the result. “Hey, Ciel? Can I braid your hair too?”

He hesitated.

Her eyes followed the way his gaze faltered. “No?”

“I think…,” he started, but then quickly realized he didn’t actually know how to finish the thought. _What thought?_   He took a breath. “Are you sure?”

“Well, why wouldn’t I be? And, like, you don’t need to worry about it, okay?” she assured him quietly.

“Then… okay. Of course you can, Lu.” He quickly undid his ponytail without another word and briefly wondered if he was looking into _her_ words too deeply. _Nothing to worry about._

The demon girl shifted behind him, threading her fingers through the strands of deep blue. She hummed a mindless tune as her hands moved. His own mind drifted.

In a distant world, he remembered helping a young girl style her hair. He remembered wanting to bake her cookies. He remembered the way she smiled at him with a twinkle in her eye. He remembered how she would always call his name, asking him to play with her.

He remembered braiding her hair.

He remembered her, and yet—yet he didn’t. Because as each day passed, each memory faded just a little bit more, despite how desperately he wanted to hold onto them. As each day passed, new memories filled the gaps. Was it wrong for Lu to be the little sister he lost? He tried not to think about it, but now, something inside him ached.

“Done!” Lu giggled, snapping him out of his thoughts.

He forced a smile. “Ah. Thank you.”

There was a pause, then she spoke, “It’s okay, don’t you think?”

And this time, with the way her voice dropped, he knew he wasn’t looking into her words too deeply. He closed his eyes. “Is it?”

“Well, sure. It’s not like she’s here, is she? And my soul is yours, and your soul is mine—so, I know you, Ciel. And there’s nothing wrong if you’re happy, right?”

“Sometimes, I just think it’s unfair.” _That she’s no longer here._

“That you can be happy, even when she’s gone?”

His eyes shot open. “I… should have done more. I would have done anything for her.”

“Then, be happy for her,” she huffed. “I mean, I don’t know much about her, or your relationship… or humans in general, I guess, but I can _feel_ everything, even if you don’t _say_ anything. And I feel like you’re being unfair to yourself.”

With a pout, she added, “And I want Ciel to be happy.”

 _And wouldn’t_ she _want him to be happy?_

He blinked once, twice, then, “I’m sorry. You’re right, Lu; I’m happy. I’m really, really happy.”

“Me too.” She grinned.

He returned her smile with one of his own.

“By the way, your hair looks dumb.” She laughed. “I really can’t braid, huh?”

“Well, that’s fine.” He chuckled as he moved to undo her flimsy attempt at a braid. “Only one of us really needs to know how, anyway.”

_And it was okay._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this ... drabble really got away from me. Originally it was just supposed to be something cute and fluffy where they did each other's hair, but the introspection wrote itself lol.  
> I'm not entirely sure how I feel about the way it turned out though. ugh Chiliarch is hard for me to write.


	7. his humanity — Diabla, Royal Guard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 7\. He follows her into the depths of darkness. — Diabla (Altar of Evil), Royal Guard

“Hm, yes, I do believe that’s the route we must take,” she muses quietly. She sits on her throne, her legs crossed and a smile tugging on her lips. She’s gained back most of her power now, she’s reclaimed her name—but no, it’s not enough. More. She needs _more_.

“Might I suggest another path?” her Ciel speaks. He stands next to her, gaze forward, voice tight. “That route may be faster, but only marginally so. We will be met with resistance.”

“And when are we not? We’ll simply destroy it all, as usual.”

“These people are not involved. It is not a necessary endeavor.” He chooses his words carefully, but she easily fills in the gaps.

After all, he is her Ciel, and she understands him more than anyone.

(and he, he understands her just as well.)

She turns her head to face him. He doesn’t look at her. “It may not be _necessary_ ,” she says, “but it is a crucial step nonetheless. I am in the midst of regaining my power and status, and every move counts. Humans are weak, but we are powerful. It’s only natural we assert our strength.”

She pauses. He remains silent. “Now, I trust you to prepare the required precautions?”

His eyes flutter shut for a moment. Then, he forces a smile and says, “Of course, My Queen. Anything for you.”

Anything to reach your goals.

Anything for your happiness.

(anything. everything. all of me.)

She lets out a satisfied hum in response and without another word, he dismisses himself. She watches his retreating figure and wonders why he tries so hard to _hide_ , when she can feel his heartbeat as easily as though it were her own.

She can feel the tears he sheds, the tears he deem weak.

But she can’t find it in herself to think of him as weak. No, she does not have weak people on her side, and her Ciel is no different. Because as much as the shards of his heart break apart, as much as they fall from his eyes, he perseveres. He follows her into the depths of darkness that so oppose his own sense of morality.

And that, that is not weakness. Every tear he sheds is _resolve_ , and his humanity is no hindrance.

He is human, and humans are weak.

She’s long discarded her own humanity.

Yet he—her Ciel, her imperfectly human Ciel with his heart of glass, his heart slowly splitting into pieces—she’ll never toss aside.

(and it’s a selfish, selfish, human desire.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello I am here again with some more pretentious writing. I felt like Chevalier would’ve worked well with this too, but yeah. I still feel more comfortable just using the 2nd jobs.
> 
> also I realized I don’t write from Lu’s perspective often, so here. I tried.


End file.
